Page 9 - Three Adventures

Voyage of the Pomeranian

afternoon, when I repeated the non-threatening handout. This time I
brought a slate and a grease pencil with which to note my
observations, both objects attached to my waist by a cord. As I came
up to the tank I saw the healthy octopus outside its shelter,
apparently feeling about for an escape route. When I lowered myself
into the tank it quickly darted back out of sight, as would a child
caught in the act of climbing a stool to get at a cookie jar. But I must
be ascribing human motives to a dumb beast, and its behavior was
doubtless no more than a normal instinctive reaction to being startled
by a potentially dangerous intruder.

Nevertheless, I took steps to insure any further attempts by the
creature would not succeed. I had already considered the need to
secure my kraken once it was taken aboard, and had kept several
able-bodied seamen busy earlier in the voyage constructing a stout
cover for the tank. I reasoned that a mesh fine enough to trap my
specimen would also serve to keep it enclosed. I now applied the
same logic to the octopi. The ability of that species to constrict its
girth to a bare minimum in order to pass through narrow openings is
well known. Consequently I took no chances and had my men tie
down a second layer of netting upon the frame over which the first
was stretched, quartering the gauge. The entire cover is hinged and
may be propped open when I wish to enter the tank. There shall be
no midnight jail-break!

May 8, 1884. Lat. 8º 26’ S. Long. 14º 57’ W.

We have had a bout of bad weather, impeding progress away from
Ascension Island toward the southwest. Rather than waste steam
fighting winds and rough seas, Captain Casimir ordered the engines
run at a minimum until the storms passed. Despite the inclemency, I
continued going on deck twice daily to tend to my charges. The
healthy one, Tristan, is quite tame now, taking food directly from my
hand. This morning I discovered that his fellow-prisoner, to whom I
fancifully had given the name Isolde and of whom I had seen very
little, died during the night. Its body, like the carcasses of a dozen
gutted crabs, was in the heap of garbage known colloquially as an
octopus’s garden.
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